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Sonnet 106

        ,             ,     ,        ,        ,
      When in | the chron|icle | of wast|ed time
         ,         ,         ,         ,         ,
      I see | descrip|tions of | the fair|est wights,
            ,      ,        ,           ,    ,
      And beaut|y mak|ing beaut|iful / old rhyme,
            ,         ,        ,         ,         ,
      In praise | of lad|ies dead | and love|ly knights,
        ,            ,             ,     ,         ,
      Then in | the blaz|on of / sweet beaut|y's best,
           ,         ,         ,        ,         ,
      Of hand,| of foot,|  of lip,| of eye,| of brow,
         ,           ,         ,      ,               ,
      I see | their an|tique* pen | would have | expressed
       Tx    T  .   T           ,   ,       ,
      Even such a beaut|y as / you mast|er now.
          ,            ,       ,         ,      ,
      So all | their prais|es are | but proph|ecies
           ,          ,          ,        ,     ,
      Of this | our time,| all* you | prefig|uring;
           ,            ,           ,       ,        ,
      And for | they looked | but with | divin|ing eyes,
            ,          ,         ,           ,          ,
      They had | not skill | enough | your worth | to sing:
           ,          ,        ,            ,        ,
      For we,| which^now | behold | these^pres|ent days,
             ,        ,               ,     ,            ,
      Have eyes | to wond|er, but / lack tongues | to praise.

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